


courage and cowardice

by esmeraldablazingsky



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, character study maybe, post-tol sirion and orodreth’s wife’s unfortunate fridging (sorry), terrible guilt issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 12:30:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19107139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esmeraldablazingsky/pseuds/esmeraldablazingsky
Summary: ...and the heedless bravery of kings. Or not.After Tol Sirion falls, Finrod goes to have a talk with Orodreth.





	courage and cowardice

The first thing Finrod did when the initial flurry of reorganization and activity had quieted down was go and find Orodreth. He’d heard snatches of what had happened. Something about Sauron, and a ploy by the lady of the tower to ensure the escape of her family, and her success. 

And, along with that, her death. 

Finrod found Orodreth in the room they had agreed he would take if he ever stayed in Nargothrond. His armor was in a heap by the door, presumably to be cleaned later. 

“Hey,” said Finrod. “How are you holding up?” 

Not well, he guessed. The Dagor Bragollach had been bad enough, what with the deaths of Aegnor and Angrod, but this was different. Personal. Or more personal, in any case. 

“She’s dead,” said Orodreth. His voice and eyes were dull. “She asked me to run and I did.” 

Finrod sat down next to Orodreth on the side of the bed. It was too big for one person, and Finrod wondered if Orodreth might share it with his daughter in the family’s time of mourning, if only to avoid the empty spaces. 

Now, Finrod could feel faint movement. Orodreth’s shoulders shook with suppressed grief, and his breath came ragged in the silence. Finrod waited for the words he knew were coming. 

“I’m a coward,” choked Orodreth when he could speak. 

“Hey, hey, no you’re not,” said Finrod. “You did what your wife asked you to, and you saved your daughter. It would have been a death wish for all of you if you had gone back.” 

“You would have done it, and you would have succeeded.” 

Finrod grimaced for a moment before he closed his eyes and willed the expression away. 

“At the risk of sounding arrogant,” he said as gently as possible, “not everyone can be me.”

“I know it,” said Orodreth. “Well.” He took an unsteady breath and exhaled it as a painful-sounding laugh. 

“Why couldn’t it have been me?” he asked. “Why didn’t I think of that first?”

“Orodreth.” 

“Your Highness?” said Orodreth. There was an edge to his voice when he said it. A look at his expression told Finrod that the cold honorific was not an accident. 

“Don’t do this,” said Finrod. “Not now. Don’t shut me out, please. Tell me how— I’m trying to help.”

“It’s not worth it,” said Orodreth. Finrod blinked. 

“What isn’t?” he asked. 

“You have better things to do than argue with me,” said Orodreth. He pulled away from Finrod and set his shoulders, his face shifting to a look of practiced blankness. But in his eyes, Finrod could still see loss and guilt and self-hatred, and the otherwise impassive expression almost made it worse. 

“You aren’t getting away that easily,” said Finrod, not unkindly. “Where was I— right. What did your wife say to you?” 

He didn’t have to clarify. Orodreth knew what he meant. He was logical that way, and could have played dumb, but didn’t see the point. Finrod would drag it out of him somehow. 

“She said I was the one Sauron wanted,” said Orodreth. “And Finduilas.” He shut his eyes, willing away further tears as he continued in a toneless voice. 

“Then she said she wasn’t important. That Sauron would try to use her to lure me out, and that the only way to foil him would be for me to—” he stopped and folded into himself, pressing a hand to his mouth as if to hold in the silent sobs that wracked his body. 

Finrod put an arm around his shoulders, and he was not pushed away. 

“She said he was used to the needless heroism of our kings,” whispered Orodreth. “And that she knew I was smarter than that. She said that was why she loved _me,_ not any of the other lords she had met, and then she went.” 

He broke. Finrod winced as he listened, not because of any inherent awfulness in the sound, but because of the grief in every shuddering breath. He hoped Orodreth wouldn’t go back to trying to bottle it all up. Something like that, thought Finrod, was apt to break his ribs from within. 

“I should go be with Finduilas,” said Orodreth. He made a valiant attempt to look like he hadn’t been crying the contents of his heart, but failed. 

“Take your time,” said Finrod. “I believe I saw her with Guilin’s younger— well, Guilin’s son, and I expect they’re consoling one another. They’re alright.” That, at least, seemed to make some headway towards lessening the awful guilt that hung around Orodreth like a living shroud. 

“Besides, I doubt you’ll be much help like this,” said Finrod, well aware what kind of appeal would work best. 

“You’re right,” sighed Orodreth. He paused, then said “but shouldn’t you be doing… something else?” 

“Don’t try that,” said Finrod. “I’m going to sit here, and we’ll talk some more if you need it, and I’ll hug you if you need _that._ And you’re going to feel at least a bit better. I’m not going anywhere until you do.” 

He expected another protest, or a halfhearted shove, or an exasperated sigh. But to his surprise and mild relief, he got none of that. 

Instead, Orodreth let the tension drain out of his body and lay his head on the shoulder Finrod was offering. 

And he said, “I guess that’d be alright.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks <3


End file.
